


halcyon

by basilleia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sleepy Cuddles, Slight OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:26:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilleia/pseuds/basilleia
Summary: halcyon. [adj].denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peacefulFor the first time in a week, Atsumu sleeps; for the first time in a week, he knows peace.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 880





	halcyon

**Author's Note:**

> hello this was entirely impulsive and i wrote this on a whim so please forgive any of my grammatical errors and kindly point them out to me :> that being said, enjoy 2.2k words of pure, self-indulgent sakuatsu fluff.

> _Oh sleep, Oh gentle sleep,_
> 
> _Nature’s soft nurse How have I frightened thee?_
> 
> _That though no more will weigh mine eyelids down,_
> 
> _And sleep my senses in forgetfulness?_
> 
> \- Henry IV, William Shakespeare

* * *

Kiyoomi finished saying the last few sentences of the page he had been reading aloud, filled with a sense of satisfaction upon its completion.

He gently flipped the book shut, the solid thump of it resounding in the otherwise quiet room, save for the sound of Atsumu’s soft, even breaths.

He leaned over to place the book down on the coffee table, careful not to disturb Atsumu’s sleeping form.

He shifts the two of them around so that they’re in a more comfortable position: taking Atsumu’s legs and draping them across his lap. The action has Atsumu burrowing his head further into Sakusa’s neck, one of his hands coming up to clutch at the fabric of Kiyoomi’s sweatshirt.

He allows himself a small smile, breathing out a sigh of relief at the sight of Atsumu finally being able to rest. He had begun to worry, when Atsumu had shown up to practice that day looking utterly exhausted.

His skin was dull and lacking its usual glow. There were bruises underneath his eyes that had not been there earlier in the week. Present Kiyoomi took the time to brush his thumb over the skin, watching the way Atsumu’s eyelids fluttered slightly under his touch. He kept his hand there, on his cheek, Atsumu turning his face ever so slightly to nose at his palm.

When Kiyoomi had asked him about it, he felt his heart clench at the tired smile that Atsumu had given him while one of his hands rubbed at his eye. “I jus haven’t been sleepin’ well, ‘s all,”

When it was time for drills, Atsumu’s movements had been heavy and sluggish, lacking their usual grace and fluidity. Kiyoomi kept a close eye on him the whole time. Once practice was over, Kiyoomi had tugged a sleepy Atsumu along all the way back to his own apartment.

On the train, there hadn’t been any seats, and so Kiyoomi stood closeby, tucking the blonde’s head in the space between his neck and his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold them both steady.

The moment they stepped foot into Kiyoomi’s apartment, only then did Atsumu seem to register that they hadn’t gone back to his place like they had initially talked about. Kiyoomi had ushered a barely-awake Atsumu towards the couch where he told him to sit while he made him a cup of tea in the specific mug that Atsumu used whenever he came over.

Normally, he would have preferred that the both of them change out of their clothes immediately, but Kiyoomi thought that this was far more important. For now, he would settle for the showers that the both of them had taken prior to leaving the gym.

When he emerged from the kitchen, Atsumu was slumped against the back of the couch, eyes red-rimmed and unfocused.

Kiyoomi had settled down next to him on the couch, setting the steaming cup of tea down on the side-table before opening his arms for Atsumu to occupy the space between them.

Atsumu had discovered relatively early on in their relationship that Kiyoomi was actually a very tactile person (see: touch-starved), and typically any form of physical affection was actually more than welcome, and so there was barely any hesitation in the way that either of them moved.

He had sniffled, then, releasing a wheezy breath that immediately caught Kiyoomi’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

Atsumu hadn’t answered, and Kiyoomi had clicked his tongue, extending his arm to reach for the cup for Atsumu to drink. He coaxed Atsumu into drinking it, speaking lowly into his ear, rubbing his hand up and down the length of Atsumu’s arm in the hopes of bringing his boyfriend some semblance of comfort.

Atsumu clutched the mug towards his chest, slumped against Kiyoomi. “Sorry,” He croaked.

“It’s alright,” Kiyoomi turned to bury his face in Atsumu’s hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“‘M just so fuckin’ tired,”

Kiyoomi had hummed, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Sometimes, I’ll go through these phases where I have a lot of trouble fallin’ asleep,” He pauses to take a sip of his tea. “Or when I do fall asleep, I wake up somehow feelin’ more tired than before. Or I’ll close my eyes for hours on end without havin’ ever actually fallen asleep at all,”

“And then I get all anxious about not bein’ able to sleep, and it just makes everything all worse,” That was all Atsumu was able to say before his throat closed up and more tears threatened to spill.

Kiyoomi frowned at him, helping Atsumu bring up the mug to his mouth so he can finish the rest of his tea.

Once the mug was empty, Kiyoomi had pulled the cup away from him, before turning back around to place a reassuring kiss on Atsumu’s mouth.

Kiyoomi, admittedly, was at a loss. Their relationship was fairly new, and this was the first time he had ever seen Atsumu like this, and the sight of it filled him with a kind of concern he had never felt so strongly before.

He had thought of something, but he wasn’t sure if it was going to work. Nevertheless, he figured that it was worth a shot. He stood up, telling Atsumu, “Wait here,” while he went and fetched something from his room.

He pulled one of his books from his bookshelf before circling back over to his bed to tug the weighted blanket away from its usual spot. Finally, he glanced at his hoodie that was draped over the back of his chair before ultimately deciding to take it with him.

Atsumu’s eyes had widened at the sight of Kiyoomi’s weighted blanket, scrambling to move over to make space for Kiyoomi on the couch.

“Here,”

Atsumu took the hoodie from him, gingerly slipping the slightly oversized fabric over his body. It was old and well-worn, and consequently the softest hoodie that Kiyoomi had owned. It smelt like the scent of fresh-linens that he had come to associate with Kiyoomi; he found himself breathing it in eagerly, the tightness in his chest slowly unfurling only to be replaced with something much, much warmer.

Kiyoomi gestured for Atsumu to come closer once more, waiting for Atsumu to situate himself in such a way that he deemed was snug and cozy. “I know a thing or two about anxiety,” he murmured, pulling the weighted blanket over the both of them and trapping them in pure, toasty bliss. “What I usually do is I like listening to something. It distracts me from my own thoughts, and gives me something else to think about,”

“Like what?”

“It depends,” Kiyoomi swiftly thumbs through the yellowing pages of a collection of short stories. “ASMR works, but not all the time. Sometimes, I might listen to a podcast. Other times I like listening to audiobooks,” When he finds the one he’s looking for, he hesitates for the briefest of moments before throwing all caution to the wind. “Can I read to you?”

And so it goes. The two of them stayed seated on the couch, their bodies fitting like two pieces of a puzzle, that is to say: perfectly.

Atsumu had fallen asleep to the low rumble of Kiyoomi’s voice, its timbre much like the caress of a gentle wave that had his eyes fluttering shut within the first 15 minutes of Kiyoomi reading aloud to him.

Kiyoomi had paused, once to check on whether or not Atsumu was still awake. Upon seeing the soft lines of Atsumu’s face, and the serenity that he has only come to know when the other is asleep: he presses a kiss on Atsumu's forehead and lets his voice carry through the stillness of the room.

That had all been nearly two hours ago. It had begun to dim outside, and Kiyoomi needed to get up and cook dinner for the two of them soon. And yet, he finds himself in no hurry to move.

Presently, the hand that Kiyoomi had previously been resting on Atsumu’s cheek drifts towards his neck, where his thumb proceeds to rub small circles into the skin right below his ear.

He savors the moment for what it is, and everything else in the world seems to fall away. At this moment, at this time, there is only Kiyoomi and Atsumu, and that is all that seems to matter.

As much as he would have liked to remain like that: a mess of limbs upon Kiyoomi’s couch, his hunger makes itself known with the way his stomach churns.

Slowly, he moved Atsumu so that he was now laying down horizontally on the couch and carefully removed Atsumu’s legs from his lap.

The moment he stands, Atsumu’s stirs, blinking at him blearily. “Omi? Where’re ya goin’?” He slurs.

“Go back to sleep,” Kiyoomi tucks the weighted blanket around Atsumu’s body before proceeding to card his fingers through Atsumu’s hair. “I’ll wake you up when I’m done cooking dinner,”

Kiyoomi lingers, only making his way to the kitchen once he’s sure that Atsumu isn’t going to wake up again.

The first thing he does is wash the rice. He makes a mental note to ask Atsumu when Kita-san is scheduled to make his next batch of deliveries seeing as he’s running low. Then, he places the pot into the rice-cooker.

He opts for a meal that is simple, yet he knows will be fulfilling. He steams some salmon alongside the pot of miso soup cooking on the stove, afterward he retrieves the side-dishes from his fridge that Atsumu had helped him prepare earlier in the week.

Kiyoomi finishes an hour later, setting the table before proceeding to walk over to the couch where Atsumu is curled up underneath the blanket. He crouches down before Atsumu, crooning his name with a light shake of Atsumu’s shoulder.

“Wha’ times’ it?”

“A little past seven,” Kiyoomi holds out one of his hands so he can pull Atsumu upright, whose arms immediately wind around Kiyoomi’s waist. “Already?”

Kiyoomi watches Atsumu attempt to fight back another yawn and fail. When he tries to pry Atsumu’s arms away from him, the blond gives a disgruntled grunt. “Jus’ gimme a few more minutes,’

“The food’s going to get cold,”

“Don’t care,” He rubs his cheek against the front of Kiyoomi’s shirt. “Once we eat dinner that means I hafta leave,”

Kiyoomi parses through the sentence in his head.

He recalls dinner: the rice that Atsumu had excitedly brought over one weekend, saying that it was from Kita-san and that he couldn’t wait for Kiyoomi to try it. _“Once ya have Kita-san’s rice Omi-kun, yer never gonna wanna buy from a supermarket ever again_ ,”

He recalls how, earlier that week, him and Atsumu had engaged in an easy back-and-forth as they worked on chopping vegetables and prepping containers.

He thinks of the mug reserves specifically for Atsumu to use in his kitchen, and the box of Chamomile tea he knows he should have in one of his cupboards somewhere.

“What was in the tea ya made me a while ago Omi-Omi? I slept like a baby,” Atsumu flashes a cheeky smile. “Or maybe it’s cos of you,”

That settles it.

Kiyoomi slings his arms around Atsumu’s shoulders, one of his hands coming up to play with the hair at the back of his head. “Would you sleep better here?” He hears a sharp-intake of breath, and feels the way Atsumu’s arms tighten around his waist.

When Atsumu turns his head so that his chin is digging into Kiyoomi’s stomach, his eyes are glassy. “...Kiyoomi?”

“Stay over,” The way Kiyoomi says it: naturally, as if they had done this a million times before, makes Atsumu’s mouth tremble and crumple to one side. “It’s our day off tomorrow anyway. We can sleep in,”

 _We._ As in the two of them.

Atsumu continues to stare at him with the same, dumbfounded look on his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Ya want me to stay?”

Kiyoomi frowns. “Do you not want to?”

Atsumu is quick to backtrack. “I didn’t say that!”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes but is unable to hide the look of fond exasperation that threatens to take over his face. Pulling away, he holds a hand out for Atsumu to take. “Come on,” He helps Atsumu up so he can stand, pressing a kiss on to his temple. “The sooner we eat the sooner you can sleep,”

Atsumu’s heart feels like it’s going to explode. His boyfriend could be really fucking sweet when he wanted to be.

They finish their food quickly, tackling the task of dishes together.

Afterward, Kiyoomi fetches Atsumu a spare toothbrush, and a change of clothes.

When Atsumu returns from the bathroom, Kiyoomi has made him another cup of Chamomile tea, and together they make their way towards Kiyoomi’s bedroom.

Underneath their shared blanket, and in the comfort of each other’s presence: they are safe.

Tomorrow, they would share the first out of many mornings together.

For the first time in a week, Atsumu sleeps; for the first time in a week, he knows peace.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on my [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/basiIIeia)
> 
> this fic now has AMAZING fanart of the scene on the train!!! please give it a like and a retweet [ here! ](https://twitter.com/petchasnetch/status/1358477513467568134?s=20)


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